


V-Day in Paris

by Gyhl



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Rated S for Silly, You can p much go into it canon blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyhl/pseuds/Gyhl
Summary: It's the fifth anniversary of V-Day and Merlin has shipped Harry and Eggsy off to Paris. Mainly to keep Harry from thinking about his actions mere hours before it happened. But then Harry sees the impossible: Richmond Valentine, alive and well.Or so he thinks.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	V-Day in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Be proud: I wrote a Valentine's Day fic!  
> The... wrong V-Day but who's counting, amirite?

It had been five years since V-Day, to the day. Harry had recovered from it… well, mostly. He’d stopped seeing the butterflies and he’d gotten much better at fighting without depth perception. Not that he really had to ever; Merlin had all but chained him to Arthur’s desk. Still, he was armed at all times with a rainmaker in hand and sidearm in his shoulder holster. He still had nightmares about the church, but that wasn’t the _only_ mission he still had nightmares about.

He’d let Eggsy drag him off to Paris for a few days. Well, for a certain interpretation of ‘let’; Merlin had all but shoved him out the door, insisting that he take a few days. Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew it was because he worked himself harder on V-Day, because otherwise he just _thought_ about V-Day and about the church. That, or he stayed home and drank.

He was sitting outside a café, enjoying the air, his café noir, and the company. Well, he _had_ been enjoying the company until Galahad had left to go pick up a flash drive from a dead drop. He knew it wouldn’t be long; the dead drop wasn’t all that far from the café. And then he and Eggsy could enjoy a lovely meal together and perhaps a stroll.

He was just about to take a sip of his drink when he saw something impossible: Richmond Valentine walking past. He wasn’t wearing a cap or dressed in a way Harry had ever seen him. He was in all black with a leather trench coat. He set down his drink and waited until he was well out of Valentine’s line of sight, and then he followed him. 

***

Nick wasn’t stupid; he knew he was being followed. The pace of his tail was matched nicely to his own, but boots and dress shoes make rather different sounds. He turned down an alleyway and kept going. Not to try and lose the tail, but to get them somewhere private. Once he was certain they had some privacy, he took his sidearm from his own shoulder holster (sure, he had a preference for a leg holster, but people reacted badly to that) and turned, bringing the gun up as he did.

His tail wasn’t surprised; he had a gun out, as well. Nick quickly looked the man over. His tail was in his late 50s; wore a suit that cost somewhere in the thousands; had dark hair that was starting to grey; and… he was blind in his left eye. The left lens of his dark-rimmed glasses was black and he could just make out where it had a side shield.

Thing was… he’d never seen this particular motherfucker in his life. He had a _good_ memory for faces; you sort of _had_ to in his line of work. And then the man said something that, well, was perhaps the one thing that could shake him to his core.

“And here I thought you were dead, Valentine,” his tail said in that snooty, upper class British accent.

Valentine. How in the _fuck_ had whoever this was known that name? _No one_ knew that goddamn name. The only files that even connected him to that were locked down under high level clearance in SHIELD.

“Who the fuck are _you_?”

***

Harry was, to say the least, surprised when Valentine turned. Not because he did or because he had a weapon out; but because Valentine had a bloody _eyepatch_ on. Over his _left_ eye, at that. When and how had _that_ happened?

“Amnesia after a bullet through the eye?” he asked in a falsely cheerful tone. “I had the same problem. My name is Harry Hart, and I’ll have no problem finishing what my protégé apparently failed to do, and such an appropriate day for it.”

He saw Valentine’s good eye narrow and then his posture changed slightly as understanding filled that eye.

“I’m not Dickey,” he said dryly. “We’ll lower our guns and talk like the civilized men you Brits claim to be.”

Harry nodded once and they lowered their weapons, both of them slowly holstering them without taking their good eyes off of each other.

“So your _protégé_ ’s the one who killed him, huh?” He shook his head. “Some rich fuckin’ Brit.”

“Actually, my protégé is what one might call a ‘common type’.”

“No shit?”

“No ‘shit’,” Harry said wryly. “If you’re not ‘Dickey’, who are you?”

Valentine looked him over for a moment. Harry had the distinct impression that he was being sized up. He kept from showing his amusement beyond a faint, but cheerful, smile. Let Valentine assume that, because he was an older, rich Brit that he couldn’t defend himself in a hand-to-hand fight.

“Who’re you with?” Valentine asked. “MI6?”

Harry’s brow rose and he gave Valentine his patented innocent look. “I’m a tailor.”

“A tailor who knows how to tail another person and keeps a shoulder holster?”

“Tailoring is a very cut-throat business.”

“So’s espionage,” Valentine said. “And don’t try to deny it. You already told me your protégé was the one to kill Dickey, which makes _him_ the one that put a stop to Dickey’s fuckin’ I’m-A-Goddamn-Bond-Villain plan. We never _were_ able to track down _who_ did that. Props, man. Takes a lot to hide from SHIELD.”

“I’m terribly sorry, from what now?”

***

Nick sighed irritably. He thought - briefly and fleetingly - about explaining the acronym, but did he _really_ want to hear again how someone really wanted the name to be ‘shield’? Just because they were right didn’t mean they had to say it. Repeatedly.

“SHIELD. It’s the agency _I_ work for. All that bullshit that happened in New York with the fuckin’ aliens? That was us,” he said. It wasn’t like that entire incident had been classified; there’d been no fuckin’ _way_ to. “I showed you mine.”

“Kingsman,” the Brit said. “Now if you would be so kind as to answer my question.”

“Nick,” he said. “Dickey was my brother. Younger than me by six minutes.”

The Brit’s brow rose. “I hadn’t been aware he’d _had_ a brother.”

“Like you said, man, I’m dead. After I ‘died’, I became what Orwell would have called an Unperson.” Nick gave him a wry smile. “We’re good at what we do.”

“Apparently so.”

Was that how a rich Brit sounded when they were interested or excited? Like they’d just watched someone tap one of those fuckin’ croquet balls through a wicket? Or did they just have the one emotion?

“I suppose the only question now… is what do we do with our new information?”

Nick’s eye narrowed. “How so?”

The Brit chuckled. “You deal with aliens; we deal with terrestrial threats that agencies acting within the law cannot.”

“So you’re illegal.”

“ _Extra_ legal, thank you,” he said oh so fuckin’ primly.

Nick nodded. “I get it, man. Too much red tape when you go through channels.”

“Exactly.”

Nick held up a hand and then reached inside his coat. He saw the Brit tense up, ready to go for his sidearm if need be. He took out a business card and, after a moment, the Brit followed suit. They exchanged them and the Brit laughed. 

“Fury. Bad Motherfucker,” he read off.

Nick smirked at the Brit. There was no way they’d ever end up needing each other, but… he understood that allies could be useful. Even helpful at times. Especially if he ever needed something ‘extralegal’. And… it was always good to know where potential threats were.

**Author's Note:**

> I think the prompt that caused this fic was given to me by my wife. One of us came up with it, anyway, and she's not here to tell me not to blame her...
> 
> And [this](https://www.bleedingcool.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/36817659_10155477154306954_483995548144107520_n.jpg) is apparently what Nick's business card looks like. idk how canon that is but I'm taking it and running.


End file.
